


car's not leaving (hold on a minute)

by kitmarlowed



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Coffee Shop, F/M, M/M, leario - Freeform, modern au - cafe, this is going to be so fluffy and cracky i'm almost ashamed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:50:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitmarlowed/pseuds/kitmarlowed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Leo runs a cafe and... it pretty much evolves from there</p>
            </blockquote>





	car's not leaving (hold on a minute)

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SO EFFING SORRY

The sign, when he manages to tear his eyes away from checking if there’s anyone else on this fucking street, is actually quite well thought out, if one ignores the use of the non-word “hella”, the swearing, and the general gist of the thing. The penmanship is nice, the twirly steam above the coffeecup is very artsy, and Leo is going to murder Zoroaster.

Though, looking back, he’s able to admit that yes, he mostly always wants to kill Zoroaster. And yet, with this new and disturbing development, he now has ample reason to. He grabs the sign, throws it into the cafe and does another street sweep and yes, there is still no one else there (possibly because it’s 6:30, but never mind that). Zo doesn’t even work and the fucking cafe, even if it is his bloody home away from home what he should be doing, instead of endeavouring to get Leo laid, is endeavoring to get himself laid. 

When Leo realises that there would be little point in Zo waking up, putting the sign out and then going back home to sleep for three more hours, and that logically that means the sign was there yesterday, he is very pleased to find that he doesn’t fall over, or indeed smash things.

His life is over, all those numbers he got yesterday (he does take the opportunity to preen) make sense and he is very definitely going to kill Zoroaster.

+

The cafe, technically, belongs to Leo’s father - who bought up all the buildings he could when he got into bed with the Medici family. However, he (quite generously, Leo’s sure he would argue, and about fucking time Leo got something, Leo would argue. Happy families.) gave it to Leo, when said son dropped out of school with qualifications in art because science was ‘too boring when taught in the oppressive and rigidly structured manner of the modern school system’. Papa da Vinci had tried everything, everything didn’t work. Nico came later, a kid at the local college who needed a job and was doing a classical arts program and Leo kind of couldn’t say no to the cute face and the mad cupcake skills. 

Leo, if he says so himself and he will because he can, manages the cafe pretty well with just the two of them, it’s not too big and the customers doesn’t want food they just want beverages and cake so it’s fine. Nico makes all he can in the early morning and helps with the waiting tables after that. They get by, now, but when Nico goes to art school Leo is going to have to get some serious staff or actually do something with himself that isn’t running a cafe in Rome. 

+

“If,” Leo says, lifting chairs from where they’re stacked and placing them around tables, “you are Zoroaster, I will end you.” 

“I’m not Zoroaster, maestro, he’s not nearly as hot as me.”

“You think too much of yourself Jacopo, and we aren’t open,” Leo throws him a sideways glance, sees the boots and the jacket and the haircut (all of which scream hustler) and clears his throat, “Jacopo leave.”

“But,” Jacopo leans against the table, hips forward and head back and Leo would smile at the display if it weren’t for the fact that the cafe opens in half an hour and they have fucking regulars that Jacopo scares, “No. Jacopo go home, try Starbucks, find someone new.”

Jacopo’s nails dig into his hand when he grabs and hisses, “you’ll regret this da Vinci,” and Leo laughs, says, “sure I will Jacopo, but there is not a thing you can do to me.”

The bell over the door rattles as it slams and Leo makes himself a double espresso.

+

“Table number two want three more of the red velvet cupcakes and the guy at table five would like a black coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble, his words not mine,” Nico reels it off in a rush and then adds, “we are also almost out of the red velvet cupcakes. What shall we do?”

Leo hops down from the barstool and flicks on the various machines and whirligigs, grabs Zoroaster by the lapel of the tatty blazer, says, “if you put on an apron right now and wait these tables, allowing Nico to go back into the kitchen not only will I refrain from killing you I will also pay you. Time you actually did something here, Zo.”

“Fucking hell, Leo, you need to get some staff.” Zo shrugs off the jacket and takes the apron from Leo, says to Nico, “hop along beansprout,” and takes the coffee and cakes. Leo breathes a sigh of pure relief and turns his attention to the person at the counter.

+

Leo has been watching the guy at table five for the two days he’s been coming to the cafe, today makes it three and he’s starting to weird himself out with it. He could rattle off the exact time the guy comes in, the make of his laptop, how his handwriting curves slightly but looks like a doctor’s scrawl. How he smiles to himself and the screen and how he seems perfectly comfortable. He could also, however, tell you that the man has a gun hidden under the side of his suit jacket, and knives sewn into the side.

He doesn’t want to get to know the man with the weapons, but the man with the laptop and the easy, if a little sad, smiles he does very much want to know.

Everytime Leo attempts to go over there, the bastard packs up and leaves and it’s getting to be more than a joke now.

+

“This is getting to be more than a joke now, Zo,” says Leo, turning the coffee machines off at the wall and downing his last glass of lemonade (one can only drink so much coffee), “and you, you and I have some talking to do.”

“Is that Jacopo?” Zo says, squinting at the window and Leo slaps him on the side of the head, “don’t change the subject.”

“Jacopo can go and die in a ditch.”

Leo laughs, “you practically advertised me, Zo, go fucking figure why he’s hanging about,” Nico left an hour ago, some commitment like babysitting or something, “God,” Leo says, “I need another waiter.”

“There’s a girl in Starbucks who looks fucking miserable all the time, I could talk to her,” Zo suggests and Leo only slaps him lightly this time, says, “talk shit get hit,” but concedes, “that’s a good plan.”

“What shit did I talk?” Zo asks, hand to his face, and Leo shrugs, “you said the S word,” and then opens the door, yells, “GO AWAY JACOPO.”

He hears Jacopo scoff and stomp away and turns back to Zo, says, “talk to this girl, and maybe I’ll forgive you for the sign.”

“Just because it didn’t work on your obsession from table five,” Zo mutters.

“Shut the fuck up, Zoroaster, and get out of my sight.”

“You going up the pub tonight?”

“Where the fuck else am I going to go?”

“Right,” Zo says, “sorry, I forgot, you didn’t have the balls to get a hot date,” and Leo enunciates a ha ha, replies, “much different from you, who has now known Nico for a respectable while and still not made a move.”

“Shut up,” they both say at the same time.

+

So yes, this is the story of Leonardo, who runs a cafe, and this is the story of how he finally (blessedly) got a date.

**Author's Note:**

> a chapter without stabbing, what


End file.
